


From Domestic To Slow Burn

by Mnemo_ink



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Aladdin (1992) Fusion, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Hunger Games Setting, Alternate Universe - Mechanics, Alternate Universe - Once Upon a Time Fusion, Alternate Universe - Regency, Alternate Universe - Sleeping Beauty Fusion, Alternate Universe - Space, Arranged Marriage, Collars, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Domestic, Hair-pulling, Implied Mpreg, Light BDSM, Manip, Mile High Club, Multi, Mutual Pining, Phone Sex, Sexting, Soulmates, Tattoos, Wings, marvelbingo2019, moodboard, set in a different time period
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-27
Updated: 2020-01-10
Packaged: 2020-09-06 21:37:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 26
Words: 17,818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20298343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mnemo_ink/pseuds/Mnemo_ink
Summary: All my fills for the Marvel Bingo 2019, a mix of manips, moodboards and fics.Chapter 19, prompt Arranged MarriageChapter 20, prompt ClaimingChapter 21, prompt Hunger Games AUNEW Chapter 22, prompt Wing KinkNEW Chapter 23, prompt soulmateNEW Chapter 24, prompt SextingNEW Chapter 25, prompt Hair PullingNEW Chapter 26, prompt Slow Burn





	1. Bingo Card

[](https://imgbb.com/)

Chapter 2: Domestic, Manip, Cherik

Chapter 3: Set in a different time period, Manip, Charles Xavier (xma AU)

Chapter 4: Orgasm Delay, Moodboard and drabble, Cherik

Chapter 5: Fantasy, Manip, Charles Xavier (Cherik implied)

Chapter 6: Collars, Manip, Charles Xavier (Cherik implied)

Chapter 7: ABO, Fic, Cherik, XMA AU 

Chapter 8: Mechanic, Moodboard and ficlet, Cherik

Chapter 9: Crossover, Manips, Jean/Emma and Cherik, Once Upon A Time AU

Chapter 10: Space AU, Manip, Raven & Charles in a guardians of the galaxy AU

Chapter 11: Tattoo, Fic, Cherik

Chapter 12: Free, Fic, Cherik, Aladdin AU

Chapter 13: Canon Divergence, Erik & Apocalypse

Chapter 14: Youtube, Moodboard and fic, Cherik

Chapter 15: Fortune Teller, Fic, Destiny/Mystique

Chapter 16: Spies, Moodboard and fic, Bucky/Charles

Chapter 17: Mile High Club, fic, Hank/Charles

Chapter 18: Phone Sex, moodboard and fic, Hank/Raven

Chapter 19: Arranged Marriage, fic, past Cherik, Charpocalypse

Chapter 20: Claiming, moodbard and fic, Cherik implied

Chapter 21: Hunger Games AU, fic, Cherik

Chapter 22: Wing Kink, manip, cherik, Charles & Apocalypse (possibly charpocalypse), sleeping beauty AU

Chapter 23: Soulmates, fic, Cherik

Chapter 24: Sexting, fic, Cherik

Chapter 25: Hair Pulling, fic, Charles/Everyone

Chapter 26: Slow Burn, manip, Cherik, regency AU


	2. Domestic

[](https://imgbb.com/)


	3. Set in a different time period

[](https://ibb.co/ZhZ81Gn)


	4. Orgasm delay

My voice is clear and unyielding :

“You think you get to show up whenever the fancy hits you, after months without a single sign of life, and that you get to come when you want? Oh no, old friend.”

Erik gasps. A broken moan -almost a sob- escapes his throat. His eyes are closed, his face hiding on my shoulder. Each breath brings him a sort of sweet pain as he tries to deal with his frustration, the burning edge of pleasure he is stuck in. Yet he doesn’t speak. He could have gotten angry, protested and left.

He didn’t. He stays on his knees, waiting. Good.

”_I_ decide when you come. And let me tell you: you won’t until I do.”


	5. Fantasy

_ _

_“Have you lost your mind, Erik? You know his power, you know why he is blindfolded. And you want to ask for his help?”_

_“Yes.”_


	6. Collars

[](https://ibb.co/fCS0wRF)


	7. ABO

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> XMA alpha/beta/omega AU, some elements can be read as mentions of dubcon/noncon

"Tell me Charles, how does it feel to be in heat?"

Charles stilled completely on the altar. His mind, which had been stretched as far as possible in search for help, snapped its focus back on his body. All the little things he had ignored, irrelevant compared to the danger Apocalypse represented, came back to him at once. The relief the cold stone brought to his fevered skin, the heart beating just a bit too fast, his senses just a bit sharper. Of course he had just been used and kidnapped, woke under the blinding Cairo sun. It was an easy explanation. Charles couldn't quite convince himself of it. He knew his heat was coming soon. And when he saw Erik, he felt such a pull... 

He looked sharply at his captor, who carried on as if nothing was amiss:

"I've never been an omega before, despite all the bodies I took. They never had powers I needed or they were best suited as horsemen. But now I have you. I'll be you."

It had been a while since he felt such anger, and the calm in En Sabah Nur's voice was only putting more fire in his veins. Yet a small part of him was lulled by the soft cadence of words. There was a tendril of power waved into them, leaving no doubt about how Apocalypse was able to tempt so many to his side: a promise of belonging and answers, a mental embrace offering protection from every sorrow, reducing one's universe to En Sabah Nur. How irresistible it must be, when the mutant uses this ability to its full effect.

"I'm sure a lot I heard were only tales. I've never met any omega as desperate and helpless as the stories paint them. Soon I'll know. I'll feel what you feel, and _more_."

Charles sees the hand touching his leg -making En Sabah Nur's meaning clear- and all he can do is to picture it, a monster standing in front of a crowd, wearing his face, abusing his power. He wonders what Erik will think, seeing it for the first time. His new master in his old lover's shape.

"It's going to be a slight annoyance, but after centuries in the dark, I can spare a few more days before making the world a better place."

"You don't want a better place, you want a shrine to your glory!"

Apocalypse smiles, glad he finally found how to get a response out of the telepath.

"I was born to rule. The rightful order will be restored, and with your help, people will let themselves know happiness in my empire. They won't have to fear change or revolts, for they will have an eternal guide. The world will remade and it will be beautiful."

Answering served no point. His belief was immovable, forged through centuries of self-conviction and devotion from his followers.

Apocalypse's attention turned to the sweat starting to appear on Charles, despite the cold in this stone pyramid. He stroke a few droplets out of Charles' face and said:

"Perhaps I'll ask Magneto to help. I'm sure he'll obey me with great happiness. He's so desperate for love, and fulfillment. He probably knows how to give this body pleasure already, doesn't he Charles?"

He saw despite himself in Apocalypses' mind -because Apocalypse wanted it-. Erik in here was beautiful but broken, a desperate man whose sole reason to be was the one he was kneeling for. A shell, whose power was pushed to the extreme by the other mutant, yet who lost all the inner light and passion that made him formidable in the first place.

It made Charles sick. 

"I saw how he looked at you, how he faltered when he felt you in his head."

_Yet he gave me to you._

Was Erik already lost to him? Would he be happy enough with the body, and not the mind, of the one he once called friend?

His head was filled with the sweet images of the past, when they had the opportunity to share a heat, and with all the fantasies he has built ever since. It would all be twisted now, if Apocalypse was not stopped.

There was nothing Charles could do but to hold the gaze of the other, to remain silent and unyielding. And to hope.

_I still believe in my message, in protecting those without power._

En Sabah Nur kept smiling as he stood and walked toward the other altar, already basking in his future victory and glory:

"Yes, Magneto will help."


	8. Mechanic

[ ](https://ibb.co/7pNYLCn)

Charles had barely entered the living-room that Raven’s voice rose loud and clear.

“He was amazed to discover that when his friend was saying “Your Highness”, what he meant was, “I love you.” And even more amazing was the day he realized he truly loved him back.”

He stopped, face scrunching in confusion.

“What?”

“Not that it would be amazing since you’re already aware you’re head over heels for him.”

Raven was obviously in a Princess Bride mood. He had watched the movie with her enough to recognize the line. The ‘Your Highness’ part… 

“Is this about Erik?”

“Is this about Erik, he asks… Of course it’s about Erik!”

Erik. Raven’s friend, fellow mutant and Charles’ desperate crush. Who kept teasing him and his old money origin by calling him ‘Your Highness’. Erik with his bright mind, strong convictions, sharp humor. Erik that he saw at chess, at some mutant meetings and the worst part: at Logan’s repair shop. 

Erik was sexy on any giving day, but he was never sexier than on his mechanic part time job. Charles kept alternating between blessing and cursing the day he discovered that fact. Erik with oil on his hands, his power ticking marvelously, focused, dirty in just the right way…

Of course, one would think avoiding the place would be fairly easy. After all, how many car or motorcycle issues can one have? Alas, fate seemed to be mocking Charles and his hopeless attraction : indeed, he was giving lessons to Logan’s daughter, Laura. Twice a week. Right when Erik had his shifts.

While part of him wanted to curl into a ball and vent about his love life tragedy, he maintained (sort of) a calm posture to explain Erik’s behavior, which had nothing to do with an “as you wish” situation.

“Erik calls me that to mock my privileges. Certainly not to express his feelings. I mean, it _does_ express his feelings, of course. That is, that I am pompous and naive.”

“That’s what he says. I suspect the truth is that he has a fealty kink.”

_A… What…?_

Interesting images burst into his mind, making him blush and curse his imagination. His scandalised “Raven!” sadly only made her laugh.

Leave it to his sister to make facing Erik harder than ever…


	9. Crossover

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Charles and Erik are Jean's parents, it can be seen as mpreg or adoption.

Once Upon A Time AU, with Jean as the savior, Rachel as her daughter, adopted by Emma the White Queen. And finally, Charles and Erik as Jean's parents, aka Snow-White and Prince Charming.

[](https://ibb.co/qRm2jsj)   
  


[](https://ibb.co/jDBnpkb)   
  


[](https://ibb.co/xLWQ0Sq)   
  


[](https://ibb.co/Zdnm7Tk)   
  


[](https://ibb.co/0q0XtqN)   
  


[](https://ibb.co/YpGhWBL)   
  


[](https://ibb.co/HBKv6gN)   
  



	10. Space AU

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sort of Guardians of the Galaxy AU.
> 
> Charles as Nebula and Raven as Gamora. Inspired by a conversation with my sister about Nebula having been very different as a kid, a sweet kid who didn’t like violence.
> 
> TW for non-consensual body modification (similar to that of Nebula)

[ ](https://ibb.co/RpN1rMV)

_"You were the one who wanted to win! I just wanted a sister!"_

_"I'm going to fight for what I have left. Are you?"_


	11. Tattoos

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for mention of self-harm, depression, suicide ideation, addiction
> 
> Starts before DOFP

It all starts with a one-night stand. For all his usual perfect memory -a curse, another one, to remember how bright _he_ made every single moment-, Charles couldn't recall the guy's name if his life depended on it. All these years after Cuba are only existing through an haze of pain, drapped in alcohol and drugs to dull his very existence.

He recalls large hands caressing his legs after they are done. It's an obsession, the feelings in his legs, ever since the serum entered his life. Every touch, from lover or blade, have become an addiction perhaps stronger than the usual suspects he fills his life with.

The man notices the faint cuts spread on the skin and asks Charles if he wants another kind of pain.

Charles agrees.

He comes back to the mansion with an X tattooed on his right thigh, much to Hank's chagrin.

\---

He gets lectured about the illegality of the practice and the danger of diseases. Charles doesn't say how little he cares about getting sick. How this is hardly the only illegal behavior he is indulging in.

_That one can't break your heart._

All he manages to care about is the rush of the act, the pain marking him in black.

He wants more.

\---

It takes longer for the second tattoo. He remembers each second with the strange clarity physical pain gave him at the time.

_I can feel my legs. I can feel my legs._

The design... He doesn't know if it's a form of penance or a memento.

\---

Hank doesn't talk to him for days after he sees the raven's feathers on his feet. Instead of the usual care, he just checks from afar that Charles is still breathing, and that's it. Part of Charles wants to shout he doesn't get to be sad over Raven leaving, not when he took such a role in it. Not when he knew her so little.

About as long as Charles knew Erik.

_Hypocrite._

Yet Hank doesn't leave. He could now. He has the serum, can look normal and build a new life for himself. He is not imprisoned in the mansion by his appearance. He stays and takes care of Charles. Is it some form of love, or some form of dependance? He should care, put his friend's happiness above his childish fear of loneliness.

He can't get the words out.

_Coward._

_\---_

A week later, Hank finally babbles, not daring to make eye contact:

"With Cerebro we could contact her."

"No. I promised her not to read her mind."

Not that he needs to read any of her thoughts to find her. But no one really understands his power so the lie goes unchallenged.

The ugly truth is that his fear of rejection is too strong, stronger than his deep desire to know how she is. Too strong to subject himself to the voices for it. What better proof that he is a bad brother?

He failed her. It's hopeless now.

_Please let her be ok. Even if I'm too weak to find out myself._

\---

One day, he wakes up with "Peace was never an option" tattooed on his wrist. He fancies the idea of cutting it with a razor blade. It would solve two problems in one go.

\---

He covers the hated sentence with a watch and keeps adding ink to his legs. 

One fan of Edgar Allan Poe playfully writes Nevermore over the feathers, and Charles asks for another line of the poem on the back on the same calf. "Darkness and nothing more". Raven had loved this poem once, having a taste for the gothic and loving that it bore her name. And then one day, she despised it. Charles never understood why. In the end, it was only one example of many. Perhaps he should have asked instead of shrugging it off. 

If she were here, she'd comment on how he is taking the words out of their context. He'd argue it could still apply to the situation. A fun banter ending in smiles. It's a silly thought: her absence is the whole point.

Hers... And his...

\---

Hank stops commenting, probably accepting the silver lining of the situation: better this than the cutting. He keeps taking care of Charles, trying to get him to eat and sleep normally, carrying to bed when he finds him passed out in the kitchen or in his old study. 

Charles wonders if Hank knows there's no professor here, not anymore. 

_Darkness and nothing more._

\---

After two chess pieces -one white, one black, separated on different legs- and a gun, he gets out of ideas. 

The need remains. 

He just lets the guys tattoo whatever they want.

There are a skull and roses, tribal lines, some stars, three anchors. There's even a pin-up that would have made him smile once. He just seeks the pain. The ability to _be_ in the moment. Free skin is starting to be lacking. He wonders how he'll deal when there's none left. 

_I can feel my legs. Please let me feel my legs._

The only thing Charles refuses is a Merlin. Merlin means The Once And Future King, old dreams and shared love. A book he hasn't opened since Cuba, still in a bedroom locked away, collecting dust where they used to create fond memories. 

Instead, he gets another popular design of the time: a grim reaper.

It's fitting him more.

\---

He does a last tattoo before the future comes breaking him out of his melancholic nightmare. 

This time it's on his lower back, just below the wound that changed everything. He had been reciting Macbeth when the urge to get it seized him.

"When the battle's lost and won."

When the artist asks him about it, Charles only discusses Shakespeare. What it means to him...

He can't voice it. 

\---

He yearns to be with Erik again as much as he dreads it. To get back their intimacy means showing his changed body. His feeble legs, his tattoos.

He is nothing like the man he used to be.

Charles feels ashamed.

His hands tremble as he takes off his clothes and lays back. He expects questions, anger, incomprehension. Erik would have every right to. Tattoos are such an inhumane part of his story. Charles fears to trigger him into panic more than his anger. He knows how to respond to it now.

Erik is silent. The one thing Charles has never considered happening. He takes his time studying them, turning Charles to be able to map his whole body. Sometimes the feeling of fingers disappear as Erik focuses on his legs. A feather light touch as soft as Erik's focus is intense to his telepathy.

And then one word, filled with a love he thought was part of the past.

"Charles."

Suddenly, everything is right.

\---

Months later, it is a different need that makes him go to a tattoo artist one last time. He takes off his watch and has the man add a line to cross out one of the words on his wrist.

Peace was <strike>never</strike> an option.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tattooing was made illegal in New York in 1961, which is why Hank reacts like that.


	12. Free

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Takes place in an Aladdin AU with alpha/omega (it's the reason Charles must marry and can't become King but it never really comes up so it can be pretty much ignored), no powers

The day had been one long deja vu. More politics webbed behind his back, more talks about the necessity of his marriage. It was a trap made of gold, one he had no way to avoid.

Even Prince Magnus' grand entrance was doing nothing to change the monotony of his life. He paraded his wealth more literally than most. That didn't make him any different.

Charles was pouring himself some wine as the unknown prince finally makes his way to the throne room, exchanging greetings with the King. He listened in a dispassionate way, his back to the group, with no desire to join them despite knowing he'd have no choice. Delaying was the only power he had left.

"Charles will like this one."

"And I'm pretty sure I'll like Prince Charles".

The voice was nice, but with an undertone, some kind of untold joke that put him on edge. Yet his father sounded delighted. All Charles saw was a new suitor bidding for his hand without knowing anything about him but his supposed beauty, a propaganda well spread to soften the distaste at his paralyzed legs.

As if any of them cared as long as they got the throne.

The chancellor spoke up. Of course he would... After all, he was the one who really controlled the politics of the land, and he didn't want to let that power disappear. This time his manipulations involved a fake concern toward the Prince. Charles restrained a laugh. How dared he? That man whose eyes always seemed to burn into his skin. That man who killed...

The only hope Charles had left was to marry someone who'd get rid of that snake without being an even worse option for his country.

"What makes him think he is worthy of the Prince?"

It was rather fitting that they all pretended to care about him while ignoring him, just a few feet away from them, in a corner of the same room.

"Your Highness, _I am_ Prince Magnus. Just let him meet me. I will win your son."

'Win' him. That... That was too much. Charles knew how he was seen. To hear it so bluntly was another thing. He rolled toward the group, all his anger spilling out of him:

"How dare you? All of you? Standing around deciding my future."

They looked embarrassed. It gave him no satisfaction. He knew they wouldn't change their plans in any way. The hypocrisy of it all... Before leaving, Charles let out the words that were bleeding into his mind, words he wasn't sure he believed in anymore:

"I am not a prize to be won."

\---

He thought he'd get some peace, finally alone in his rooms, when Magnus broke the calm with some ridiculous attempt at seduction. Just more deja vu. Compliments, fake smiles, he knew it all. The only effect was reminding him how unsafe his rooms were, open to any slightly motivated climber.

There was something in Magnus, in some of his movements, that echoed... It only made Charles more bitter. That this man dared reminding him of...

For the second time today, he unleashed his anger at Magnus. Another suitor, like all the others.

Except. Except the man appeared sorry. Understanding. Charles was puzzled, unprepared for such a reaction. Where was the hurt pride? The insults?

Then Magnus jumped from the balcony and reappeared on what could only be described as a flying carpet.

All these years, Charles had prepared himself for the worst, but not for the magical. 

As he touched the flying carpet, felt it react with some form of sentience, with some personality even, Charles smiled. The first genuine smile he had had in months. Or was it years? How long had it been since he felt anything at all? 

His disbelief turned into wonder and it made him realize how everything had been muted until now. How his dreams were mere longing he couldn't really manage to be passionate about.

How could it be an different when he had lost all hope?

And yet now... 

He felt, imagined, wanted. Oh, how he wanted...

What Prince Magnus was offering to him was something he never thought he could get. A sense of freedom, the ability to travel and discover and doing so without being stopped by the strict rules of the palace or by his unfeeling legs. It wasn't reasonable. In fact, it was even quite foolish of him, entertaining the idea of following a man he didn't know, knowing the country's future would be at risk if anything happened to him.

"Do you trust me?"

Magnus' voice brought his attention back to the present. Charles turned pale, sure he misheard the man, that his mind was playing tricks on him. He found himself truly looking into this new suitor for the first time.

"What?"

"Do you trust me?"

The obvious answer was no, why should he?

But the words send him to the past, back to the market when he could still walk, back when he was a naive fool hoping to change the world. When he met a young man named Erik, filled with passion and anger and kindness. A man who died because of him.

The words were the same, the gesture too, even the flicker in Magnus' eyes. It was, in every way, heartbreakingly similar and in that moment he almost believed that Erik... Could he be? Wasn't it too little to hope again?

Perhaps Charles was still a hopeful idiot after all, or perhaps he was too tired of the stillness of his life and too desperate for change. In the end, it didn't matter why. He simply couldn't stop his smile, nor ignore the shiver that went through him when he took the hand offered. With a genuine belief that shocked him, he answered:

"Yes"


	13. Canon Divergence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set before DOFP

Someone was watching him.

He could tell immediately, instincts honed to perfection. All his youth had trained him to be aware of it. A necessary tool, to survive as well as to hunt.

In this plastic jail, being watched was part of his life. Surveillance was one of the bases of any modern prison, and it was far from a normal one. Beyond the cameras and the rounds, the guards were curious. Who was the man requiring such strange isolation ?

He pretended not to notice. After all this time, it was easy to push these humans stares in the background. Appearing unaffected was the only dignity he had left.

Yes, he was used to being watched.

Not like that. Not with this intensity.

He rose and looked up. The harsh light, directed at him, didn't allow him much sight beyond the cell. In the darkness, he discerned an imposing silhouette in armor. Erik knew without any doubt: he was a mutant.

The newcomer raised his hands and Erik's surroundings fell like sand. Yet some light remained, a less violent glow but an impossible one.

The mutant descended toward him. Blue skin, eyes turning from white to profound black, all in him was calm control and deep charisma.

Words about the guards remained stuck in Erik's throat. He could feel the power, raw and unending. There was something infinite in the man in front of him. He couldn't get his eyes off him. Soon he forgot everything else.

"Who are you?"

"I've seen what you tried to accomplish for our kind. You've been betrayed, just like I was. They tried to stop us from fulfilling our destiny. Their cage won't be enough, their weapons won't be enough. I will rebuild the world for the strongest. And I want you to help me."

Each word was like a caress to his very soul, the acknowledgment of everything he had faced and believed. Erik felt what he could only describe as a pure sense of harmony growing inside him, making his heart beat faster in ecstasy.

This mutant was everything he had dreamed to be. A leader. A breaker of chains. A righter of wrongs.

And he had failed. He let his brothers and sisters down.

If he couldn't be that leader, perhaps he could follow the mutant capable of it. Fight for mutantkind and atone for his failures. Yes... This was the answer he was waiting for.

"What's your name?"

A kind and wise smile appeared on his savior's face.

"I have many names. But to this broken world, I shall be known as Apocalypse."


	14. Youtube

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Modern AU with powers

[ ](https://ibb.co/KqShVYR)

Charles and him have been together for five months now. Five months of growing happiness. What was raw desire at first is now slowly getting filled with peace and serenity.

Arriving at Charles’ door for their date, Erik sends the impression of knocking and receives a warm invitation to come in followed by "I'm almost ready". A small use of his power and he's in.

It doesn't mean he wouldn't like a key though... Just for the symbol. And isn’t that a first?

Since Erik's place is not as wheelchair friendly, when they aren’t out on a date, they spend all their time at Charles’ place. Which means that Erik was getting habits and that surprisingly filled him with warmth. The apartment was now familiar. Almost homely.

He notices a familiar book on the kitchen island. He gets closer, a fond smile on his face. He knows this cover by heart. His mum’s cooking book.

He saw the book through all its steps, the happy and the harder ones. He was there when this book wasn't even a project yet, just a little dream in some corner of his mother's mind. He was there when she filmed her very first cooking video, thinking only family and friends would watch.

He helped her with the camera and editing, but what he is the most proud of is making opening titles himself, using his power to make kitchen tools move and dance. His mother’s smile when she discovered it, the pride in her voice, is one of his most cherished memories.

She gained popularity in a way they would never have imagined. But more importantly, she was happy, doing something she loved and being able to live thanks to that work. There’ve been many hateful comments online of course : about her faith, her age, her appearance, her mutant son. It never stopped them.

Charles’ book is filled with sticky notes and Erik is obviously curious.

He sends the image of the book with the sense of a question mark to Charles' mind, who answers with a positive ‘go ahead’ feel. It is nice, not to always use words.

He starts flipping the pages, curious to see which recipes Charles favored, but an unexpected flash of black ink makes him go back to the very first page.

He recognizes his mother's writing. A dedication.

_For Charles, _

_Alles ist gut. _

These words....

These words have kept him going through all the lows of his youth. From his father's death to the hate he has faced being a Jewish gay mutant. These words are simple, but have a weight and strength he has learned not to underestimate.

He knows his mother doesn't use them lightly. If she wrote that down, Charles must have made an impression. Of course he did.

The familiar feel of the metal chair brings him back to the present and he can't help but smile fondly seeing his boyfriend. Quickly -not enough to trick Charles- he changes it for a smirk and says:

"I didn't take you for the cooking type."

"Well, I had to learn somehow when Raven and I got on our own. And Edie... She's special."

Having a famous mother isn't always easy. Sometimes the fans make his skin crawl, when they don't outright made him furious. The entitlement they could show, especially in person, wanting to photograph and touch without permission, is maddening.

Charles, as often, is an exception. The fondness in his tone and the wave of happiness he projects remain respectful. He doesn't forget Edie is a real person.

But then, Charles is practically some sweet pastry came to life. One with some hidden punch. He’ll have to ask his mom one day what she thinks would fit the most.

Charles looks up and asks:

"You know her work?"

"Yes, I'm familiar with it."

Familiar... Nice one Erik.

The thing is, Erik is not in the habit of screaming off the rooftops that his mother is a famous youtuber/writer. If he _had_ to scream anything from some rooftop, it would probably concern mutant rights or a call to revolution.

He is not often directly faced with the issue either. And Charles... He believes in their story. Maybe it won’t be forever, but what they shared is already significant and profound. Whatever happens, he knows it will be one of the most important relationship of his life. So what if he pushes the parent meeting ahead of scheduled?

“Actually, I have something to tell you. About my mother.”


	15. Fortune Teller

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the first time, here is some Raven/Irene! The prompt fortune teller worked so well for it I decided to try it!  
Set after XMFC  
TW mention of abortion

She was vibrating with a quiet indignation when entering the circus. The idea of a fellow mutant being subjected to this... Being rejected as freaks and used as attractions when they were better than humans. Just imagining herself in this position rolled her stomach. 

It could have been her in there. She had been lucky. For some parts at least.

Magneto looked calm, but she had no doubt he felt the same. It made her all the more surprised when he told her he'd go see the boy alone and left her on her own. His words felt like a slap, like _she_ had done something wrong.

She wandered around a bit, ready to fight if her leader needed her to. The minutes went by with nothing happening. Instead of relaxing, the tension in her jaw was getting painful, her stomach revolting against the smell of the animals and sugar. Everyone was watching her, without the barest discretion for it. Suspicion was in every eyes, making her skin feel tight and wrong. How she wished she could shift and scare them... Show them her true self, destroy them with a good word and go. She was a wild tiger, not a caged thing to observe and judge.

She could leave and wait outside. After all, Magneto had made his feelings clear, and she had already patrolled enough. But it would make her alone, with nothing to do but think. Thinking brought doubts, questions and fear. It made her feel like _Raven_.

Since Cuba, she had filled her days as much as possible, only going to sleep when she knew she'd just crash into bed and go under before her thoughts twisted her rest. 

On the outside, she looked like a perfect soldier, focusing all her life on getting stronger, better.

She was just running away from Raven.

When training wasn't enough, she'd go to Azazel. He seemed to get her, more than the others, even Angel who... Anyway that was not to be. 

No. Leaving wasn't an option. She needed something to focus on, some kind of distraction to forget Raven, Charles or her most recent dilemna.

It was still early and only one tent was fully set up. The grey fabric made the wooden board and its gold and crimson letters more striking: Destiny's parlor. She hesitated a few seconds, but these humans kept looking at her, raising the anger and the will to bite inside her. She entered.

The inside was surprisingly bare. Only a round table, the chairs and the cards. When she saw the woman, she understood. No need for an elaborate decor of trinkets and candles when you can't take your eyes of the fortune teller. Power seemed to pulse inside her, her aura undeniable, like an inviting smoke.

Already seated, she wore a blue dress which looked like it came straight from the previous century. A gold domino mask hides part of her face, though not enough not to see she was beautiful. Her eyes had a paleness Mystique associated with blindness. Was it the case? Or was it another artifice ? It was a good selling point, the blind clairvoyant.

Raven wanted to kiss her, an admission she could make in the safety of her own mind, at least for a fleeting moment. It didn't mean anything, after all she was attracted to Hank and to Erik. To Azazel.

"Hello."

Even her voice was alluring... Raven only managed to mumble a small 'hi' in reply. She thought she was above this now.

She cleared her throat and took things back under control:

"Destiny? That's your name?"

"One of them, yes."

"Not very modest."

She laughed, making Raven frown.

"I guess it's not. One can get carried away when choosing a new name."

A fun night with the others, carefree and simply enjoying the fact of finally being with people like themselves. People who would understand.

Not that Charles ever understood her despite being a mutant. In the end, he was too 'normal', wishing to pass when Mystique wanted to shine.

"Do you want a reading?"

Her hands, mixing the cards expertly, were captivating. All in her was captivating. Would her hands be as gifted for touching another woman?

_A mere human fraud Mystique?_

"How will you see the cards? Your 'gift' I presume?"

For all her sarcasm, Raven was sitting down in front of the other woman.

"Much simpler than that. The name of each card is written in Braille. I'm not faking my blindness as you may think."

"You can't know what I think."

An image of Charles flashed in her mind, twisting her with a sort of fear.

Could this woman also be...?

"Not every thought is hard to guess. Some are quite transparent or quite common."

The idea of anything in her being common was revolting, but as she couldn't deny she had doubted the woman's disability, she kept quiet.

Mystique took the card the psychic handed her. The Lovers. A blush heated her skin below her blonde disguise.

She brushed her fingers on the Braille several times before asking:

"Can't you cheat then? If you can know the cards by touch?"

"There are many ways to. You'll have to trust that I don't."

"Trust?"

"In the end, we all have to from time to time."

A lump in her throat, she gave back The Lovers card, and watched as Destiny finished preparing her set, loosing herself in the hypnotizing motions. It couldn't last forever, of course.

"What do you wish to know?"

Mystique was beyond the point of questions. She made her choice, took a new road, and now she was confident and strong instead of a lost little girl. She told herself she was fine, that she had everything under control. Even _that_.

She couldn't look at Destiny.

After the silence had stretched for too long, the woman asked again:

"I can hardly make a reading if I don't know what you want to know."

"You could guess." said Raven, looking up, her voice filled with derision.

Attack had always been a good defense. 

The woman remained regal, and despite her blindness, Raven felt the weight of her focus, the annoyance at her childishness. 

"You're the one who came to me."

"Everyone was watching. It unnerved me."

"Circuses have always been their own world, a refuge for the differents. It makes us wary of strangers."

"A refuge? That's what you call it?"

"It can be, when the right persons are in charge. If you took the time to listen, perhaps you'd understand. That you wouldn't want this life doesn't mean it's bad for everyone."

"It's a _cage_."

She put all her disdain in that word, that word she hated so much. Whether of gold -like the mansion- or with steel bars, scrutinized by humans -like here-, a cage was a cage.

"Why are you so opposed to the way some people feel free and accepted, when it doesn't hurt anyone else?"

"But they are _not_ free or accepted !"

"You refuse to consider this world outside of your own feelings."

Destiny stated this like fact, almost with a hint of pity in it, but remaining calm as ever when Raven was getting angrier every second.

"How can you judge me ? You know nothing about me !"

_You don't know I am more "different" than anyone in your small circus.  
_

"I know you won't accept my own feelings and experience as valid, won't accept that many considered freaks or monsters by society can be happy here because you wouldn't. You are judging our world. Why shouldn't I be allowed to point it out?"

"Do you really make money like that? I don't see anyone being glad of being told off."

"We never discussed money, actually. I am not working right now."

"Good, because I don't need your tricks."

She didn't need anyone. She knew what she was doing. _  
_

"You don't believe in tarot. That's alright. But everyone has questions about their life."

"Not when you took control of your future."

"If you truly did, would you care so much about showing it off?"

"Why do you keep questioning me?"

"I just want to help you."

The genuine honesty in that voice, the part of her who wanted to reach to Destiny and talk, pushed Raven's rage.

"I don't need it! I know what I'm doing!"

"Blue."

Raven's heart stopped.

"What?"

"I believe this is what's troubling you right now. Your child, should you have them, would be blue."

Of all the things she was trying to avoid, that may have been the one she pushed the more out of her mind. Pregnant. What could she do now?

"I'm like you. A mutant you say?"

"Your gift is real...?"

"I'm also a lot older than I look."

Her smile was full of secret jokes and long history. The power that Raven felt before was now like a black hole, all the surroundings melting and disappearing inside her, making it impossible not to focus on her, an oracle with a god like charisma.

Destiny took her eyes off her, breaking the tension by playing with the cards and changing the subject:

"Your friend will be disappointed. Mortimer won't come this time."

"You saw it?"

"Yes. His choice has always been clear so the vision was as well. It's not always so easy."

Not always, but it was enough for her to see... Her pregnancy. The child.

So they'd be like her. Blue, perhaps unable to hide, at the mercy of a cruel world. Filled with self-loathing, hating their body and their inability to move freely in the world.

Destiny's exact words came back to her:

"What do you mean 'should you have them'? Can something go wrong?"

"It's always a possibility of course, but no. I was referring to the choice you are facing."

She talked with no judgement in her voice. Abortion. Raven had been thinking about it, in some corner of her mind.   
She had wondered sometimes how it must feel, being pregnant. But it was merely a detached curiosity, not a fully formed reflexion about wanting children or not. She felt so young, and everything until recently had been reduced to her life with Charles. And now with the mission...

She had no clue what to do. She was just beginning to construct herself, to create Mystique, the person she wanted to be. Could this person be a mother? How could she even keep a blue child safe? She couldn't get them adopted that was clear.

_Charles would protect you both._

No. This child would end with the same pain he caused her. She won't do that.

To go back to him in need would be admitting defeat. He would judge her and feel justified in his arrogance. Never.

She would show him, show the world, the person she could be.

Perhaps she could do that, be better than Charles and...

"I can be better than my own mother."

"Don't do this to prove some moral higher ground. Don't make this child a symbol for your fight."

And again, Raven's resolve crumbled instantly by Destiny's words.

"I know it's hard. You've gone through a lot, but this is the first hard choice you've ever made."

Why the assumption? She was more than a rich little girl. She had known hunger and pain, had to survive on her own as a kid.

_Survival was not a choice though._

Perhaps it was not. But later...

"I've made hard decisions already. You don't know me, no matter what you think you see !"

"Then tell me."

"I left my brother, left his side when he was wounded. Don't you think it was a hard decision ?"

"Was it, really ?"

'Of course it was' she wanted to shout. But something in the calm psychic broke her shell and, trembling all over, the truth came out shocking her to the core:

"No... God, I'm terrible, but it wasn't difficult. Why wasn't it difficult ?"

Until now, she had been able to deny it. Rejoice in the strength she had shown, finally being herself, making her own destiny. Mutant and proud. Mystique.

And a simple fortune teller destroyed it.

"Raven."

Magneto's voice broke her out of her stupor. Only then did she realize she was crying. She wiped the tears quickly before turning toward her leader.

She bit a remark on his use of _that_ name before remembering they were supposed to look human.

"We're done here."

He barely glanced at the fortune teller. She could tell him this woman was a mutant and let him do the speech. Someone seeing the future would be such a precious help for their cause. But the way she just undid her...

She got up and followed Erik. The beautiful voice stopped her just at the entrance:

"If you ever want to talk, if you need help, I'll be there for you, Mystique."

She told herself she'd never step foot in this tent again. She knew it was a lie.


	16. Spies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In Cuba, Charles ends up in the hands of the russians and at the winter soldier facility.  
Months later, he escapes with Bucky and Natasha.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for mentions of violence, torture, trauma

[](https://ibb.co/8PskD2h)

For the second time, he was becoming a ghost.

First James Barnes was killed in action, and his remains became a shadowy soldier. Now that shadow was disappearing as well. What would be left then? He had yet to figure it out.

He watched as Charles, still too thin, was using the machine they called Cerebro.

Now in everyone's memory, in every file, the Winter Soldier died during another cryonics procedure. His body was studied and burned, his arm archived then lost in the explosion that killed many personels from that facility. As for Charles, he had never been in Cuba, nor in contact with the CIA. He was a simple PhD recipient who went for a sabbitical after finishing his thesis, a young man of no interest to the red room, Hydra, or any agency out there.

Natasha, the little girl they took with them, died of the pneumonia that had her being sent to their facility, away from the other children tortured into spies. 

They were safe in Charles' mansion for now. From the rest of the world at least. Not from themselves.

\---

Charles slept for five days after that. As Natasha kept sneaking into his room, they ended up adding a bed for her. Bucky was already sleeping beside Charles.

\---

The soldier was afraid to sleep, what with Charles unable to stop him, if he wasn't himself. After he snapped at Sean and told him the evil he was, Sean showed off his power and knocked him out.

Bucky found some rest that night.

\---

"Alex just helped Natasha put a tutu on her teddy bear."

Charles raised his eyebrows. His power, still hard to control, obeyed his curiosity and pulled the memory out of Bucky. The soldier felt it, tensed, but focused on commenting on the scene:

"Natasha was quite harsh to it."

"She's treating the teddy bear like they treated her."

Charles retreated, pained and angry at all Natasha went through. Her... And so many. So many he saw in her mind, so many she probably never met.

"There are more children like Natasha. I want to help them..."

"Me too." interrupted Bucky.

"But we're going to need help. And, as much as it pains me to admit, we're going to have to wait to recover. I already went too far erasing us."

Bucky kept his comment about that to himself, but his eyes clearly sent to Charles 'no shit you did'.

"I think I remember people I fought with. It's vague, but I feel I can trust them. You should be able to pull their names out of my skull."

Charles nodded.

"If they are still active, considering the actual climate, they'd probably welcome the intel about some Russian operations. We may be able to push them in the right direction."

Bucky, without realizing it, gripped Charles' hand:

"If not, we'll find another way. We have to save these kids."

Charles felt his throat tighten, both their despair and resolve mixing in a tempest of feelings.

"We will."

\---

"We should discuss what to do about Natasha." said Charles, barely hiding his nerve behind a cold facade.

Bucky frowned, not understanding.

"What about Natasha?"

"Perhaps it would be better for her to be adopted. By a normal family I mean."

"She's not normal."

Charles looked away. Bucky sighed, took a few seconds to calm down, and said:

"I know we won't be able to take care of all the others, if we get them out. But it's different. We escaped together, we bonded. To her, we are her family now. I don't think she'd take it well if we abandoned her."

At these words, Charles turned back to him, his controlled appearance breaking as he raised his voice in outrage:

"I don't want to abandon her! I want her to have the best life possible and I... I don't have the best track record for raising girls."

Confused, Bucky asked:

"How old are you exactly?"

"What?"

"How many kids can you possibly have?"

"What... Oh! No, I meant my sister."

"So you messed up once, when you were still growing up yourself?"

"Put like that it does seem rather ridiculous."

"Because it is."

The small smile Bucky had gotten out of Charles vanished in an instant, as Charles remembered Raven and how it ended.

"I didn't mess up as a kid though... And I hurt her... I don't want to repeat things with Natasha."

"If you know your mistakes, you just have not to do them again."

"That's the problem though... After all this time... I'm still not sure where I did wrong."

\---

Bucky's terror woke up Charles like a loud thunder. Not even fully conscious himself, his mind reached out to the other man. He wrapped Bucky into a mental shield, getting him out of his nightmares and into a peaceful mental space. And then slowly, calmly, guided him awake.

Several minutes passed, rhytmed by Bucky's breathing, his eyes lost as Charles held him in his arms. 

"I should have been stronger."

"No one can accuse you of lacking in strength my friend. Don't punish yourself for something you were the victim of."

"You beat it though. I didn't."

Charles moved back to look Bucky in the eyes, determined to make him understand:

"Listen carefully: I didn't manage to trick their conditioning because I am stronger; their method is very much unbreakable. The only thing they didn't account for was how different a telepath's mind was. _Not_ stronger. Different. Like trying to put a cube in a round hole. And even then... With such pain... I nearly didn't make it. You and Natasha are the reason I didn't lose myself. Had I been alone..."

Terrifying images forced themselves into his mind. He swallowed, focusing with all his will on Bucky:

"If they hadn't wake you up to assassinate JFK... Had they wake you later, maybe even just a few days later, perhaps it would have been too late for me too."

Charles caressed the soldier's face, tears in both their eyes.

"So you see, you saved me. Even when your mind had been broken and pushed in the dark, there was still enough of James Barnes to call out to me. Keep me sane and hoping. Without you..."

Words got lost in the tears, voice choked with the emotion. Their faces got closer, as if sharing desperate breath. Their lips so close, minds asking permission silently.

"You saved me..."

They kissed and, in their minds, hope flared once more.


	17. Mile High Club

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for depression, unhealthy coping mechanism, addiction  
Set during DOFP, in the plane (though you have to imagine a slightly different one sorry)   
Charles/Hank

Running away from an argument didn't used to be in his nature. But then, after all these years, Charles wasn't quite sure what his true nature was. Maybe there was nothing more to him: an empty man, with no goal and no hope. Vaguely he recalls an academic path he must have wanted at some point. He left that path, and can't go back to it again. After that, there was a dream, the idea that he could make a difference, create something with... But no. He tried on his own, and failed. The past few years ripped away his masks, and now he is bare for all to see as he truly is.

A shell.

He closes the cockpit door without looking at Erik, the plane still vibrating from the man's anger. Or perhaps it is only in Charles' head? It doesn't really matter.

All he knows is how relieved he is not to have his power. To feel in his very soul Erik's anger, disappointment and disgust... Why would he want that? It is hard enough to have it poisoning his mind as the words keep repeating in his head.

_You abandoned us all_.

No... No, he didn't. That was not how it happened. Or did it? He gave up yes... But he was never fit for the position he tried to hold. Erik must have known it, he saw through Charles right from the start.

He failed them, but he didn't abandon them.

_Really Charles, playing with the semantics?_

They are better off without his meddling anyway. What good could he have made? All he had to offer was money, and he failed even at that. Even his strongest love was no good for those he cherished.

Yet his body keeps trembling like moved by Erik's power.

_You abandoned us all._

He sits next to Hank and tries to fake nonchalance.

"Is there anything to drink in there?"

"I assume you don't mean water?"

"That's a no. Right, you're piloting and I'm supposed to be over there."

They both know there's alcohol on the other side. Charles doesn't dare to go back there; it's only a small relief for Hank, but he's gotten used to enjoy what he can. Seeing Charles destroying himself, how he hasn't been able to save him...

For a while, they remain in a complete silence. Once, it would have been comforting, but now Hank can't ignore the way Charles is viciously scratching his arms, eyes lost and unfocused.

After making sure it's safe enough to rely on the autopilot, Hank takes off his headset and reaches for Charles:

"Come here."

In an instant, Charles is straddling him, holding him in a desperate hug. 

His voice is a murmur filled with despair :

"He is not wrong."

"He doesn't even know what happened on our side."

_He doesn't care._ Oh, how Hank wants to get his resentment toward Erik out. A man who left them in a war zone, left Charles wounded with no medical help. He wasn't there when Charles was told he'd never walk again. When Charles had to relearn how to live while still caring for Alex, Sean and him.

Hank doesn't voice it. Never has. For all that this love has hurt Charles, he also needs it, and Hank can't be the one to destroy the last bit of hope.

Charles keeps talking as if he didn't hear Hank's objection. Truth is, he probably didn't, not really.

"If I had been a better man, Raven would... I even let _you_ down. If I had been good enough, you wouldn't have rushed into taking the serum, wouldn't have pushed your mutation. You are trapped in the mansion because I wasn't the leader you needed me to be."

Hank has heard it all before. All the regrets, the hate, the guilt, a never-ending series of 'if' in which Charles blames himself for all that could have been. He has enough self-loathing to go on for hours, cutting his own heart in pieces.

Hank has to stop it before it gets worse. He knows how. He pushes Charles' shirt of his shoulder and bite. Hard. Charles tenses in his arms before sighing with relief. Hank used to be scared at Charles' reaction to pain. Now he just goes with it and do what must be done.

Charles feverishly starts working on Hank's belt. As their hearts speed up, Charles gets up, undress and comes back on Hank, who takes off his shirt and raises his hips enough for the other to push his pants.

Charles' hand gets him hard as fast as ever, their despair used to being channeled into lust. Charles lowers himself on Hank's erection, his face hidden in his partner's chest, close as if he wanted to disappear in his arms. They move as one in an animalistic rush, nails and teeth and pain working together to bring them to the edge. There are love and anger and a pleasure that builds up despite all the suffocating despair in the room. Hank bites his lips as they come, his pleasure tainted by the fear of being heard and, as always, by the bitterness of the act.

He loves Charles, but not that way. Charles loves him, but not like he loved Erik. No. Still loves Erik.

They have tried to create ways to cope with their losses, but all they found are briefs unhealthy reliefs. Two geniuses unable to deal with their emotions.

Must be why they are alone now.

Softly Charles removes traces of their come with a tissue. Hank pretends not to see the tears in his mentor's eyes.

Charles dresses again and goes back to the co-pilot's seat, sad but calm, his destructive emotions muted once more.

"When will we arrive?"

"Four hours left."

"Alright. Thanks, Hank."

The gratitude mixed with exhaustion in these words makes Hank's throat constrict.

All he can do now is to focus on the flight, and pray tomorrow doesn't make everything worse.

\---

After a while, Charles goes back with the others. There are no screaming.

Later, when Hank dares a look, they are playing chess.

Looks like Erik got under Charles' skin again.

\---

One day later, nothing went to plan.

They are back at the mansion without Raven, Erik at large, with Cerebro malfunctioning. 

And yet, as he comes back from fixing the machine, Hank sees a glint in Charles' eye, a glint he has missed so much. Logan must have found what to say or do to help. 

Hank wishes he was the one to.


	18. Phone Sex

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some Hank/Raven, set in canon.

Hank loves nighttime. The kids are asleep, his obligations as teacher and x-man are fulfilled, and he can focus on his passion for science, alone in his quiet lab. Luckily, his mutation means he doesn't require as much sleep as others, so even with all his responsibilities, he still has ample time for his experiments.

The phone rings.

This is far from usual. Very few people have the specific number of his lab, and since the one most likely to need him is a telepath, this line is mostly unused.

This is actually such a strange occurrence that it takes several seconds for his brain to process that the phone is, indeed, ringing, and it's with great caution and incredulity that he answers:

"Hank McCoy?"

"Finally! I was starting to fear you were not here!"

"Raven? Is everything alright?"

The trouble when you think fast is the ability to form catastrophic scenarios in less than a second.

"I hardly had time to get into trouble since my last call."

In Hank's opinion, five hours are way enough time to get into trouble, as the students daily demonstrate. Still, he is relieved. And puzzled.

"So... Did you forget something?"

These past months, Raven has been living at the mansion, mending her relationships with Charles and Hank. They were trying a new balance, the public x-men on one side, Mystique dealing with secret cases on another, but ultimately all working together. She was gone to handle a fight ring, and had already called earlier, both for the mission update and for more personal conversations.

So the reason of that call is a complete mystery.

The chuckle he hears doesn't really help.

"I know we already talked Hank, but I had something in mind that is best done when we can't get interrupted. You're alone in the lab, right?"

"Yes...? Do you... Should I call Charles?"

"What? No! I'm not opposed to threesomes, but not with my brother."

"What do you...? Oh! Oh..."

"Yes, Hank. I want to fuck. On the phone. Interested?"

The advantage when you think fast is the ability to form pleasurable scenarios in less than a second.


	19. Arranged Marriage

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Powered AU in some sort of medievalish setting, canon disabled character  
Past Cherik, Charpocalypse  
TW Ableism

He remembers stories from his childhood. Tales of warning against magical beings granting wishes, how they'd always twist their gift as a cruel joke. He knows they are not real, mere lessons, or sometimes propaganda against the gifted. And yet...

It doesn’t escape Charles how close this moment is from what he used to dream so deeply. The sun is high in the sky and the stained glasses are creating beautiful colors in the temple. The banner of his house stands proudly on his side. Everything is perfect from the scent of the flowers to the voices of the choir. His mother always had good tastes after all.

Erik is a commanding presence, handsome and proud.

And yet…

They make a beautiful picture with no depth to it. The frozen image of what he wanted, with none of the feelings. Just a couple of years ago, he never could have imagined this cold seeping through this wedding. But of course, he never could have imagined the twist corrupting his old wish. Erik is here at his side, but Erik is not here in his own name.

A proxy marriage. That’s how they call it. Erik is here to escort him to his new kingdom and to represent his master in this ceremony. En Sabah Nur. Charles knows next to nothing about him. A powerful gifted appearing out of nowhere who somehow became king. A collection of whispers. Almost the thing of a fairy tale -a cruel or happy one was yet to be clear-. It surprised Charles when a proposal arrived from this shadow. It surprised him even more when Marko accepted. He's tried to learn what deal was made, but all his usual tactics have failed.

Despite all the persons present, the minds feel so terribly quiet. He focuses a bit longer on his mother, hoping for some small piece of emotions. What he finds are concerns about his chair, none of the sort he wishes she'd shown.

'_How dreadful that the spouses have to be seated; It is doing nothing for the perspective of the temple. The guests must have a terrible view._'

He retreats, unsurprised but bitter. She never accepted his disability. In fact, the only time she willingly mentioned his telepathy was after the physicians gave their verdict. As his world was crashing down, pain radiating through all his back, she asked him if he couldn't 'appear normal'.

His suffering didn't matter. The image of the Xavier had to be protected.

Well, it is the end of the Xavier now.

It is nearly done. He mechanically says the traditional words as the red ribbon is tied to his wrist.

He watches as the other end goes around the armband on Erik’s forearm: it mustn’t touch Erik’s skin, only the jewel who represents his real husband. Gold, with greyish blue and purple stones. Strange symbols he wishes he understood, starving as he is for any bit of information. Anything to prepare himself for what is to come.

There. It is done. In the eye of the law, he is married.

He has not met his husband yet.

\---

"I’m not used to you being so quiet."

Erik’s voice pulls him out of his reverie.

He remembers talking about anything and everything with Erik. The last book he read and the old laws of the land, his scientific theories and his favorite music, the history of art and the future of the country. He shared everything with him, whether frivolous and deeply serious. Now they’ve already been stuck in the same carriage for hours and he couldn’t find one thing to say.

You abandoned me, perhaps. You could have visited, you could have written. You could have, you could have… Things left undone and unsaid between them could fill volumes. It’s too late now.

In the end, there’s only one thing he wants to know enough to break the silence between them.

"What is he like?"

He doesn’t have to explain further for Erik to understand.

"Magnificent. You’re really lucky Charles. Such men are rare."

"I heard some believe he is a god. Is it true?"

"He inspires a lot of devotion, as he deserves. And yes, some say he is a god."

Charles doesn’t ask what Erik thinks of that, he who had always been proud of his heritage, the faith for which so many people he knew were killed. It’s a contradiction, but then, it’s Erik. He doesn't voice either his opinion on the matter, that no matter how strong their gifts they remain men and should never forget it. There's no point.

His face must give away some of his doubts because Erik adds "You’ll understand once you meet him."

He can’t help but feel jealous seeing the obvious deference in Erik’s whole expression. How he would have wanted this admiration to be directed at him. For Erik to choose him.

Or perhaps Erik chose him in a way, selling his merits to his King.

_You should feel grateful anyone would wed you at all._

No. No matter what his mother or anyone else say, he will not be thankful someone married him despite his disability or his power. Not when he was picked only as a dowry or a weapon.

When Erik left, Charles gave up the idea of being chosen for himself. Not for his title, not for his power, for who he was as a person. 

To be loved... Yes, that is something he would have been grateful for.

\---

The rest of the journey is filled with long silences only interrupted by platitudes about the weather or the number of miles left. Each stop, Erik helps him out in less and less familiar nature. He observes the trees and plants with wonder, focusing on his love of discovery to ignore the eyes always following him. Erik behind him, another general always ahead of him, a woman he only catches small glimpses of.

When they arrive near the sea, he lets himself cry silently when he is alone. He won't see Westchester again.

For all its wrong, it was home. He'll never be able to make things better. Marko won.

Ahead of him lays such uncertainty he feels like he is moving in complete darkness, trying to keep his head high as he carries on toward traps and cages he wasn't allowed to prepare for. Erik's words should be a reassurance. Surely things haven't sour between them enough for Erik to bring him to his hell smiling.

It's not enough to calm his fears. Erik's idea of a good path had never been his own. That has always been the problem.

At night, Erik leaves the carriage in which the seats are rearranged to create a small but warm bedroom. It would be cosy if he couldn't feel both generals sleeping on each exit, their tents blocking his ways out. Protecting him. Some of the measures taken seems a bit much, even for a traveling royal. Is there a real threat or do they fear he'll escape?

Erik has a natural protection against telepathy. As for the other general, she shares his gift. Still, he could probably push past their defenses. He is strong enough. But then, what? Without the proper equipment to ride, he'll need to force someone to come with him. Even if he had the strength to keep all these soldiers out of their trail, what life could he get? He'd have to hide forever, always cautious, always masking who he is with his power. There is no peace to be gained.

And who knows what would happen to Westchester, if his part of the contract is not filled...

No. There is no way out of this.

He is trapped.

\---

As Charles starts to feel hundreds of minds at the edge of his consciousness, the carriage comes to a halt. The rest of the convoy carries on.

Erik opens the door, levitating the wheelchair to help him transfer onto it.

"We've arrived."

"Beg your pardon?"

"Your belongings are being brought to the palace, but you need to stay here till the ceremony. It's only for one night and I'm sure you'll find all the comfort necessary."

Charles looks up and sees a small encampment ahead, tents of rich fabrics reflecting the last rays of the sun. The ground seem to have been flattened, and he is relieved that he will be able to be as independent as possible. He hates reprimanding servants, but he won't let himself be treated as an object to be moved around.

Still in a slight daze by this turn of events, he asks:

"The ceremony?"

"Your coronation."

\---

The bath is heavenly after the journey. The scents are new and relaxing, foreign flowers spread on the clear water. He studies them one by one, wondering their names, their properties and their eventual symbolism. The servants are all radiating calm, making it easier for him to enjoy this rest. The peacefulness is such that it almost makes him forget the significance of the next day and night.

The night...

He doesn't know how crucial the consummation of the marriage is in this land, but it would be foolish of him not to expect sex. What will En Sabah Nur want of him? Charles knows he won't be able to bring himself to participate actively, not that first night -his desire had always been tied to his affection-. Will his husband want him to? Or will he want him still as a doll?

Will he want to hurt him?

He may not have been with anyone before, but Charles knows fair well that people don't search pleasure in the same way, and that this pursuit can be selfish and cruel in the hands of some.

And there is the pressure of tradition, meaning that no matter what both of them want, the night may be already be written for them.

Perhaps it would help if he imagined being with someone else? Erik comes to mind immediately, the one he loved, the one who is going to be so close now and yet completely out of the way. Too close to be used that way. It would be dangerous if Charles started to believe his fantasies.

There have been others he has been attracted to, a spark starting to form as he learned to know and respect them. But the people too close to him have always been pushed away in one way or another, keeping him alone, opportunities for love gone.

Laying on the bed, he tries to will his fears and apprehension away. He'll need all the rest he can get for tomorrow. The air is filled with a sweet aroma and soft music reaches him.

Breathe in, breathe out. Breathe in. Soon enough, he is asleep.

\---

The clothes feel like water on his skin, the embroidery an absolutely exquisite work mixing the symbol of Westchester with those he has yet to learn. Gold, blue, purple and dark green dance across his vision, whether in silk or precious stones as the servants were running around getting him ready. All through the preparation, a man walks around him with songs on his lips, and incense in his hands.

His eyes are painted in gold, as well as the tip of his fingers. Charles wishes again that he knew the meaning behind those choices. Earrings in the shape of hawks in turquoise are put on his ears, a necklace with a tree pendant around his neck. The flurry of activity stops.

He is ready.

\---

He expected a carriage. Instead, Charles is facing a monument of gold. The engravings and sculptures are so numerous and detailed it would take him hours to study them. His eyes fall on the hawks and tree, and the blazon of his house, and he feels light-headed realizing this was built especially for today. For him.

Erik bows, and Charles nods at what he is saying, even if it is all so far away he's not sure of the actual words. Erik carefully takes him in his arms and flies to the immense float, helping him sit on the throne on top.

Before him stretches a lavish procession, horses and banners and dancers as far as the eye can see.

Before leaving, Erik murmurs with fervor:

"This will tell the world that you are his only equal."

\---

As soon as he enters the city, the sounds and sights assail his senses. The crows's cheering is like a pulsation in his body, the city offering all its beauty to his eyes. Everywhere he looks is filled with colors, from flowers to fabrics hanging across the buildings, thin enough to let the light go through them. Petals are thrown around and dance in the air, as music gives rhythm to the procession.

Its majestic... Overwhelming.

And the minds... The joy and devotion are a lot to take in, perhaps even too much. Charles isn't used to deal with a crowd this big focused entirely on him, their fervor so thick it was almost sickening him. The procession keeps advancing, making him closer and closer to his fate and Charles feels strangely out of his body.

They finally reach the palace at the heart of the city. A platform of incredible craft is installed, the King sitting on a throne.

Charles has been hoping to finally see his husband. He has no idea how long he would have to wait, for En Sabah Nur is wearing a heavy mask in the shape of a bird.

En Sabah Nur gets up and silence falls, making a shiver goes through Charles' spine. As his husband walks toward him, Charles realizes the platform and the float are perfectly interlinked.

The King stops a few feet before him and despite not seeing his eyes, Charles feels the full weight of his gaze. He doesn't dare searching the mind, as this confrontation is already speeding his heart, his husband pulling him in, and in... The rest disappears and his world reduces itself to a golden bird.

A soft click breaks the spell and brings Charles attention to the chests on each side of him, chests which just opened.

The one on his right is familiar. He remembers the servants putting it in one wagon, Kurt watching carefully and checking again the content, taking one of the foreign generals as witness. It was part of his dowry, the gifts from Westchester.

On his left was a chest of similar size but with the symbols of En Sabah Nur. Richness from this land...

En Sabah Nur raises his hands, the simple motion giving an aura of command that could control an army. Pieces of both treasures raise in front of Charles, frozen in amazement as he watches the different elements become a crown, a seamless blending of his old and new kingdom.

His husband grabs his creation and approaches him. He shouts something as he raises the jewel above Charles, but the words evade him, his own feelings pushed to the limits of vertigo by the intensity of all the feelings around. Finally, as the noise of the crowd become deafening, En Sabah Nur crowns him.

It's a perfect fit.

\---

The rest of the ceremony is a blur. He remembers facing the crowd, his husband's hand on his shoulder, then being directed to a shade, servants making sure the heat wasn't too much. There is food and water, a perfect breeze. He closes his eyes, letting his mind fly in this new territory.

There is the pure enjoyment of the moment, people forgetting their usual life to make the most of the celebration. Some fear and doubt, bringing out Charles' own to the forefront of his mind. Will he be good enough for whatever will be expected of him? Will he be more than a man in a chair?

The celebration carries on till sundown, dancers, musicians, actors and gifted showing all the array of their talents in front of Charles, now sitting at the right of En Sabah Nur. 

At any other times, he would have been delighted by all of it. But the more spectacular the show, the closer to the night they are. And Charles can't stop worrying about that. 

Yet he wants to know, he _needs_ to know. 

\---

Taking all the clothes, the ornaments and make-up off him takes a while. Usually, Charles would discuss with is servants, ask for their name, what their usual tasks are. Now all he can do is keeping his head high. Everything around him is only a blur of colors as he tries to prepare himself for the night.

The wheelchair they give him is so light, he finds he can manipulate it alone more easily than ever. It is a relief as he enters the bedroom. His? Theirs? Uncertainty grips at his heart again. 

Fortunately, he doesn't remain alone for long.

It's the eyes he notices first. A deep piercing gaze, beautiful brown eyes focused entirely on him. No one ever looked at him like that. Not even Erik. 

Power is radiating from all his being, a strength that seems it could bend the universe to its will.

Charles knows without a doubt this man can only be En Sabah Nur. 

His charisma adds to his handsome features, making him a terribly attractive man. Charles is transfixed.

"I’ve heard so much about you, Charles."

It's only then, as his husband is right in front of him, that Charles remembers to bow.

"Your Majesty."

A hand softly takes hold of his chin and raises his head back up.

"You're my consort, you never have to bow."

These simple words are overwhelming: it sounds like En Sabah Nur mean to _no one_, not just for him. As if Charles and he were above the rest of the world, above the protocol dictating to bow in welcome to other royals or nobles. His only equal, Erik said.

"You can go in if you want. In my mind."

As soon as the permission is given, Charles lets himself fall into the other's mind. It is inviting yet guarded, like the city itself with its imposing walls. It is a maze, a sun, with no fear nor doubt, and Charles retreats before burning himself in it. 

"Your conviction... I never felt anything like it."

"And I never felt anything like you either."

"You mean my power? Is that why you proposed?"

A weapon... No...

"It was part of it. But in itself it wouldn't have been enough. You're not here for your telepathy to be used. I wouldn’t have married you, if I wasn't sure you were the one."

"How can you be so certain, when we never even met before?"

"I told you. I heard about you."

"And I don't believe you became King by trusting rumors and tales."

En Sabah Nur smiles.

"Oh, I know how to get the truth."

"No one can be totally unbiased."

"Like my general." _Erik_... "Yes, it's very true. Still, there is no doubt in my mind. Soon, I believe you won't have any either."

And that voice is so enchanting, Charles can almost trust it without questions.

He whispers:

"I don't even know how to call you."

"Simply my name. I would love to hear you call me 'husband' too. As for anything else, we'll see along the path."

En Sabah Nur takes his hand and this caress is sending a shiver inside Charles, the tenderness of the touch fighting his anxiety and fear.

"I want your respect and affection. I will earn them. I want you to rule at my side. To be happy. To be free."

The King raises the hand he was holding and kisses it. His words resonate like a promise, his conviction touching Charles in his very soul. He doesn't know how to react at all.

"Do you approve of the ceremony?"

"I didn't expect anything like this. It was... magnificent."

"Good." There was this edge in that word, as if anything less would have been completely unacceptable.

"You'll understand better tomorrow. I'll show you your new kingdom. Just rest for now. You are safe."

Safe...

Charles turns toward the bed. Seeing an helpful handle, he lifts himself on the mattress. The sheets are soft, the pillows perfect. The bed ceiling is a beautiful construction of gold and silver on dark blue, an impression of a starry sky.

The comfort is so unexpected, his breath starts to slow down despite the race his heart was in just a few minutes ago. The exhaustion of the journey and his anxiousness come crashing down on Charles. The mattress moves softly and he turns to watch his husband, eyes still burning in a way that troubles Charles.

"Good night Charles."

His husband is laying on his side, respecting Charles' space. His voice is soft and calm, inviting. Everything in him is inviting, just waiting for Charles to trust as one would hold out his hand toward a scared bird. Kindness... Respect... Charles hadn't prepared a response to that.

"Good night... En Sabah Nur."


	20. Claiming

[ ](https://ibb.co/gZ8PsjK)

"Erik… It's Charles. I hope you'll get this message. I need your help. Something strange is happening, something I don't understand. For the past few weeks, I've woken up with those marks on me, black lines we can't make any sense of... Every day there is more of them. No one at the school could have done that. I've tried accessing my dreams to no avail, it's as if I wasn't dreaming at all, there's just this fog... No, I'm pretty sure there is something behind this fog only I can't access it and it's...

Anyway, Hank thought it might be a new component of my mutation, a physical one, and maybe it is, maybe it doesn't feel right, doesn't feel like it's part of me because I'm in denial, which would make sense, right? I shouldn't be calling you but... I look at them and I feel there are someone's else marks. We tried to check my mental activity in my sleep. We got no result cause the machine just stopped during the night, all the four nights we tried. Maybe it's all me doing it... I may not have the control I thought I had.

Hank and I, we've done all we could think of. Perhaps I'm just a fool and this is nothing of importance, but I can't stop worrying about it. I _can't_...

I need you, Erik. 

I know very well you won't have any answer, but this is not why I'm calling you. I'm afraid I'm losing it. And if I do...

I need you to stop me."

\---

Erik froze like a statue the moment he heard Charles' voice. Because it was unexpected. Because he could hear his growing terror. Because Charles wouldn't turn to him if he felt he had any other way and if it wasn't desperate. Because Charles wouldn't use a phone instead of cerebro if he wasn't scared of his power.

Erik knew in his core there was something going on.

Just as he knew, without a doubt, Charles hadn't realized he was talking in Hebrew.


	21. Hunger Games AU

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had the first idea for this when I used a prompt generator which gave me dystopia and soulmates. It remained a small note in some file until I saw I had the prompt Hunger Games AU and decided to go with that! I may do more of this idk
> 
> Since it's the Hunger Games, TW violence and death of children
> 
> Non-Powered, Soulmates AU, Cherik

He'll never forget his terror when he hears the name on TV; His heart constricting like when Kurt locked him in a dark room; A vertigo so strong he is surprised, when getting back to himself, to discover he didn't move at all.

Erik Lehnsherr…

He knows this name as well as his own, has traced these letters on his leg a thousand times, wondering how old the other was, if he lived somewhere in the Capitol, or in one of the districts.

The innocent curiosity got replaced with dread as he got older and started seeing the horror behind the bright colors of the world he lived in. What would he do if Erik was part of this government? If he shared the Marko's point of view? Was it even possible, soulmates sharing nothing of the same core beliefs? What a cruel joke it would be, to meet this person, at last, and to discover he can never respect him, never be happy with him. Someone who may even sell him out as the resistant he is. At sixteen, there is not much he can do yet, but he tries.

And then he sees him, his soulmate, standing proud and defiant, about to leave his home for an almost certain death. Charles does what he's always been reluctant to do : he gets involved in the Games. He gives as much money as he can access when his stepfather is still in charge of the Xavier fortune. He charms people so that they sponsor Erik. He watches.

It all leaves a terrible taste in his mouth and a taint in his soul that makes him sick: making sure Erik wins is making sure all the others die.

He makes himself learn their name, their history. For the careers volunteers, the ones enjoying the Games, killing with a smile, it's hard to feel any pity, though Charles tries to remember they were taught this thirst of "glory" by an effective propaganda. But there's Sean, only eleven -oh god, eleven- who loved to sing and who dies only seconds after the start. Angel, fourteen, fast and agile. You could see in her eyes that she wouldn't give up and would do everything to survive, but in the end she's just so alone... Armando is strong, perhaps one of the strongest. He adapts quicker than any other to their environment, and is a good fighter. He dies heroically to save someone else, a good man gone forever for the entertainment of the Capitol and for the never-ending punishment of the districts.

No matter the nausea and the ugly tears that he lets free behind the doors, he forces himself to watch it all. His step-father and his mother don't question it. In their views, it is a good sign that he is finally getting interested in the Games. "Finally becoming a man."

So Charles smiles, and gets more money, and does all he can.

Ironically, it enables him to discover the power of his charm, how he can influence people by being pretty, and soft, and safe. He won't stop doing that, not till president Shaw and the Games are gone forever.

He catches Shaw watching him once. While the soulmate names on the tributes are never made public, no doubt the president is informed of it. He knows.

When Erik wins, a final bloody duel that got so close to ending differently, Charles can't stop his relieved smile. In his heart, he knows he'll never do enough to atone for that.

\---

Just another year and Erik would have escaped the Games. They probably would never have met, but they'd have no blood on their hands. No terror in their dreams.

No. There's no point dwelling on those "if". The simple fact of living in this time and place means there is no escaping violence and death. It only takes opening one's eyes to see. They are part of it. To destroy the system won't be peaceful and painless either.

There can be no beautiful love story in their world.

But if their love can't be beautiful, perhaps it can be strength, a fire keeping them going. So the next generation can be luckier than them.

Hoping for a better future and fighting to make it true... It's all they have.


	22. Wing Kink

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Once Upon A Time, Apocalypse cursed prince Charles. "On his 21st birthday, he will pick his finger on a spinning wheel, and he will come to me and join my side."  
The day has come...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sleeping Beauty AU  
TW non consensual body modification

[ ](https://ibb.co/x5RFX2D)

"You're jealous of your sister, of what she is to this... Erik. Don't be. You'll be _my_ raven."

And Charles let out a silent scream as dark wings grew on his back.


	23. Soulmates

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set in some sort of fantasy AU, the soulmates marks are the first words spoken to each other  
Cherik

His mother is dying. The exile and war, hunger and cold, have left their mark on Edie. Her mental strength could only help her so long against the never ending attacks on their bodies. Erik knows, with dark certainty, this illness will be too much.

Later he'll let all his rage and despair take hold. He'll cry and scream and push his power until exhaustion empties him of all feelings. For now, he wants to be there for her, as long as he can. Make things as peaceful and painless as possible. He knows how to hold on when he has to, and his mother is one of the best motivation possible.

"My poor boy. I'm leaving you alone in this. I worry for you."

"You mustn't. I'll be fine, Mama."

She snorts, taking his reassurance as sweet lies to appease her. How could she see it any differently, when they are still forced into such a miserable life? When their faith is still hated and when she knows how his power is feared?

"It's the truth. I know I'll be."

Her smile is sad, but full of love. Even now, she puts him first, caring for his future, not for her pain or death.

He lays down next to her, holding her in a tender hug, his voice a whisper full of secret hope:

"I'll tell you a secret. I have a soulmate."

\---

Obeying Kurt leaves a bitter mouth in Charles' mouth. Not that he cares about rank or how his house nobility is both older and higher than his stepfather's, but it is hard to respect someone who so clearly wishes you disappeared.

His mother should have been regent after his father passed away. She was, for a while. She hated it. Charles never understood if it was a form of denial about his father's death, a sort of fear at these sudden responsabilities, or anything else. He doesn't know her enough to figure it out and his mind reading power is locked away by this dreadful collar.

In the end she remarried, with the goal of having her new husband take over the regency. The council didn't try to stop her. Working with her was working with a silent ghost, so they needed an actual regent and welcomed him happily.

Kurt Marko. Once he had been kind to Charles. That was when Charles was still a child, when one could easily forget he was a future king. When Marko hadn't got the taste of such high power. When Charles' power wasn't known... Now Marko had the goal and the excuse. After all, who doesn't fear mind readers?

At nineteen, Charles is getting terribly close to the ruling age. When he is summoned by his step-father, he knows the man is about to do something about it.

Kurt doesn't even look up as Charles enters his study, leaving his stepson to wait in front of the desk for several seconds before he has enough:

"You wanted to see me, Your Grace?"

"Ah, Charles! Yes." Protocol would require him to use Your Highness in salutation. Charles is used to Marko not caring about that. "I've made my decision, you are to marry King Erik of Genosha."

Marko announces this as if he was giving him the evening menu. 

"The gifted revolutionary? But..."

"His title is recent indeed, but a crown is a crown. He made a very good offer and we need to get good relations with this neighbour. A wedding is the perfect way to do so."

Recent... That's one way to put it. Erik Lehnsherr is not royalty nor nobility. He is the head of a rebellion that just took power in Genosha through revolt and blood. He was proclaimed king of the new gifted kingdom just a month ago.

In many ways, it is a misalliance.

"And it helps you get rid of me, doesn't it?"

"Enough! You will leave for Genosha next month and will be thankful for it! I could have gotten you killed or send to Utopia. God knows Trask made several offers for you. Instead you only have to pleasure a king of your kind. Who knows, maybe laying back will be enough. Surely you can do that ?"

The crass of this supposed father figure leaves Charles with no word. So this is what he wants for him, to be a pretty possession to a dangerous man.

He knows, logically, that none of these first options were actually viable for Kurt. There is a limit of what he can do to push Charles from the throne without making the council rage against him. He can't help feeling a shiver of fear though, remembering the horror stories he heard about Trask. 

But a wedding to a neighbouring king... It's not out of the ordinary, though generally only for the second or third child. The council won't disapprove of that. Especially to a King they are afraid of. What is stopping him to continue his contest after all? And Westchester shares a border with Genosha. A promise of peace will be enough to persuade them, and in the end Charles' would rather be traded for peace than richness.

Charles' voice is full of sarcasm as he ends the conversation with a tight "Your Grace."

He leaves, trembling with furor at his step-father's words.

Yet once alone in the hallway, he can't help but smile. Oh if Marko knew, he was sending Charles exactly where he wanted. If he knew, Charles was already aware he was going to marry King Erik. Had known most of his life. His fingers subtly caress his soulmate words on his arm, hidden by his clothes.

The first words his soulmate will say to him.

Wedding vows.

_I, Erik Lehnsherr, bind myself to you Charles Xavier_...

Kurt may think he is getting rid of him, he is only going to make him more of a threat. More than that, he is going to contribute to his happiness. The irony is delightful.

He forces his face to sadness again, knowing playing the part is essential. Kurt may have found the deal with Genosha good, probably panicked at the rumors of its army strength, right on their eastern border, but marrying him with what he sees as a barbarian, a temporary ruler, was clearly part of the appeal. He needs Charles to be broken, to be weakened into such a state that no one would support him in ascending to the throne.

He is going to be severely disapointed.

Charles remembers the first time he heard about Erik, the leader of the rebellion in Genosha. Hiding his surprise and excitement had been difficult. Finally, there was that name! His future husband. He had been concerned when he searched every noble house he could possibly get engaged to with no avail. Surely his husband had to be born already? Where was he?

As everyone was mocking this rebellion, Charles knew. Erik would succeed. He watched as people got more and more anxious, reports of victories and new revolts becoming a weekly, than daily occurrence. He followed every step of the way, sometimes disapproving on specific choices, but always agreeing to this fight for gifted rights. Every word about his soulmate and Genosha seemed to stir up a fire he hadn't known was in him. New goals formed into his mind, a hope brighter than before, and it all felt so _right_.

And now Genosha is a haven for mutants. Erik is King.

Soon, he'll be free too.

\---

Erik used to find it strange, wedding vows as first words. Didn't you have to know your spouse first? He knew he couldn't talk about his mark, so he asked questions vague enough. Yes, people should be in love before a wedding, or they should be willing to share a life. Yes, there can be arranged marriage in every class of society, but it's only in nobility that they are the norm, with many strange rules to be followed strictly. No meeting before the wedding, for example.

Erik was still confused. He was not a noble. He couldn't become a noble, could he?

When their peaceful life is destroyed, there's no time to think about it.

It becomes a burning promise: he will rise and he will marry his soulmate. He hears about him from time to time, the young prince of Westchester. Some talk of his intelligence, a few echoes of his beauty and kindness.

Rumors about his power. A gifted like Erik. Perfection.

And now he is here. Here in his country, here in the castle. So close...

If Charles wasn't collared by his stepfather, he might even have felt him. He pushes his anger aside. Soon, he'll make it right. Marko sent the key with the last contract. He won't use it. He'll free his husband as a mutant, with his power.

It is tradition that he shouldn't meet his husband before the ceremony. It should revolt him; In theory it does. He is too at peace to put out a convincing appearance of resentment. And let's not tempt fate, when he knows what he knows.

When life for once has done him a favor.

No one knows. Only to his mother he had confessed this secret, to give her some consolation and hope.

It hadn't been hard to arrange the wedding though. He hadn't even been the one suggesting Charles. Emma had argued from the start it was the best choice: a kingdom close and rich, a prince of the right age known to be clever and kind, and most importantly a fellow gifted they could free. How perfect to build the new legend of Genosha?

"I can already imagine the paintings 'The Unchaining of the Prince', you can't get a better publicity than that, sugar."

Everyone had agreed quickly and Erik was able to hide his eagerness easily behind the mask of duty.

He would have felt guilt if Charles hadn't really been a good choice for the country. He even would have refused his happiness if that costed Genosha its future.

For once, he doesn't have to choose.

_\---_

Taking Erik's hand was like the first light of spring. A promise of a new life, a breathe of fresh air after being locked away. It felt natural, safe, right.

They share knowing looks, smiles so discreet they may be the only ones realizing it. The simple joy of two kids sharing a secret, the happiness of a long awaited event finally taking place. There hasn't been many places for innocence in either of their past.

That was it. Their first words.

Charles hopes his voice doesn't tremble as he starts:

"I, Charles Xavier, bind myself to you, Erik Lehnsherr, for our good and bad days, and for the peace of our lands."

He has never said anything with sincerest belief than this. Erik holds his hand a little tighter, eyes never leaving his, and he makes his own vow.

Charles didn't know before that a voice could touch you so much to the core.

As Erik talks, Charles feels the words heating on his skin, forever changing from black to gold.

His heart is so filled with pure joy he can't stop himself from smiling. His husband does too, wide and carefree, and the sight is magical. They don't have to pretend anymore, to play the court game and plan their every moves. They are together. They are complete.

Charles' collar moves slightly, a little tug, and looking at Erik, he understands instantly. A nod. The collar disappears and his mind melts with Erik's own. He is welcomed and wanted, and Charles opens all he is to his husband, receiving the same absolute trust in return. In an instant, they both know the other's soul. Words echoes between them, and they are so entangled in this moment Charles can't tell for sure whose thoughts these are: "So much good in you", "By my side"... And "Together" repeated and pledged and sang all over their minds.

Yes... Together, they will change the world.


	24. Sexting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cherik dom/sub relationship featuring spanking, punishment

There are days where everything just goes wrong. Not in a huge catastrophic sense, but a never-ending series of annoyance and stressful news, as if every single element in your path had decided to piss you off.

Erik is having that sort of day. Things were easily pushed away with a grunt in the morning. Now the accumulation is putting him on edge, as everything around him angers him in some way or another. His whole back is constricted, his jaw so tense it hurts. Oh, how he hates those days...

At the back of his mind, the spot he knows as Charles warms up, making him aware that his partner is actively looking at him instead of the usual passive bond they have. It's not enough to calm him though. The presence retreats. He knows they are too far apart for a prolonged contact, but he adds this to his list of this day's faults.

His phone vibrates. It's Charles.

No, not Charles. _Sir_.

"_Get up. Legs apart, hands on your desk. Your ruler. Ten strokes._"

Erik wants to protest. He is fine. He does not deserve this. Charles knows him too well and sends a second message.

"_Now, Erik_."

It's just a text. Yet, he imagines his dom's voice clearly. His tone strict, powerful, not allowing for a single doubt or protest. He could send his safeword. He doesn't want to.

He stands and puts himself into position, using his power to open a drawer and gets the ruler out. It is mostly in wood but it has enough metal for him to control. To punish himself. 

One.

The first pain is always a small shock. It breaks his current mindset, pulling him into something else he can't quite identify yet.

Two.

Three.

Quiet... He has to be quiet. And good.

Four.

Five.

The pain is getting sharper. His back tenses and relaxes more with each stroke.

Six.

Seven.

The rest of the world, every little bit that were so irritating, it all fades away. His mind focuses on the counting as strongly as if Sir were here.

Eight.

Nine.

There's only him and peace. His head is blissfully empty, everything is clear, simple.

Ten.

He breathes.

He can't write much at this point, only tapping 'X', but Sir will understand the code. Understand he obeyed. 

The phone vibrates again. 

"_Very good, dear._"

A warm breeze hugs his mind and he melts into it, reading the next message with contentment.

"_You have snacks and water inside your desk, love. Take a little of both._"

In a serene haze, Erik grapes a cereal bar and starts eating. 

"_If things get too much, I want you to take the rest of the day off. For now, I want you to sit back and feel the marks of your ass to remember this moment._"

"_Yes, Sir._"

"_I'm proud of you, Erik._"

Charles' mind sends him more love before leaving. Erik smiles and closes his eyes, relishing in this serenity only Charles can give him. 

The day can restart now.


	25. Hair Pulling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dom/Sub interactions  
Charles/Cain, Cherik, Charpocalypse, just Charles/everyone basically  
Canon disabled character
> 
> Set in a parallel modern world, where Westchester is a small state, with a sort of mob boss AU vibe?
> 
> POV Apocalypse in the last part

He was eighteen when he discovered this... ability. He was at the mansion, a quick interlude to his studies to fix some administrative issues, when Cain arrived.

Charles froze, his hands clutching his wheelchair, what would be his flee instinct completely overthrown. He hadn't seen his stepbrother in years, ever since Kurt died... Perhaps they could remain civil, it wasn't necessarily going to end with... He remembered too well the man's anger and the force of his blows to believe that. Already there was the fury in the eyes, the hands contracted into fists.

What made Charles try something other than pleas and call for peace, he never knew.

All that matter is that he brought Cain to Kurt old laboratory, gently pushing him into doing what he had always wanted: to destroy everything. Instead of trying to stop the tempest, he encouraged it and let it free.

And so he watched from the doorway as Cain's rage exploded into violence, animalistic screams responding to broken glass and destroyed equipment. When Cain was done, he fell to the ground, exhausted and empty of any feeling or thought. Charles rolled closer, close enough to caress his hair softly. On instinct, he praised him.

"Good boy."

Cain threw himself at Charles, his arms circling him and his face hiding in his torso, pleasure pouring out of him like warmth from a fire.

Charles felt elated. It went way beyond the relief at escaping being the target of this violence. No... Whatever had guided his actions that day, he had liked it. The ability to help. The power to control. It was a perfect combination for Charles, responding to so many of his desires, his virtues and flaws middle ground... It was _him_.

He knew without a doubt, this was only the first time.

* * *

If there was anything Charles owed to his stepfather, it was opening his eyes to the power struggle that was happening in their city-state. Different factions fighting for territory, resources... Supremacy. Westchester was the modern Florence, rich and influential, and many battled for control. 

Charles' father and step-father had both participated in these games. Kurt had even tried to make the Marko the new Medicis. He didn't have what it took to make it true.

Whether he wanted it or not, his wealth and his family past meant Charles had no choice but to be part of it too. Truth was, he's always been part of it, even if he didn't know it. The accident that paralyzed him... Charles was livid the day he realized there was no accident. That he paid for his family's actions.

That a child would suffer for adults' actions... He refused to let it be.

He didn't want to join a faction, and he certainly didn't want to lead one. To go these roads meant violence, torture and death. 

But to build a safe haven and to establish a rule protecting children from being victims or weapons, he'd need the different leaders to accept it. He couldn't make them fear him.

Instead, he'd make them love him, create a need such, they would never think of hurting him or his own. 

Lehnsherr was the first, the easiest and most difficult at once, as it was the only one who truly tempted Charles for more.

Erik had a will of iron, and was ready to do anything to achieve his goals. And if he came to Charles on his knees, seeking atonement, well... They all eventually ended in the same position as him, searching their own need.

The White Queen sought understanding, the Black King relished in elaborate scenes and in inflicting pain.

Trask wanted care and love. But he made the mistake of going after Charles' sister, and that was his downfall. By the next day, he was dead, his budding kingdom split into the other territories.

And a few months ago, a new figure appeared.

En Sabah Nur liked power. He was ruthless with his enemies, but when it was outside of the context of this war, seeing someone displaying their strength turned him on. Charles could do that with no issue.

* * *

Power is the only thing that matters. More than wealth and social position, it is about an aura coming from within, a strength that shines through every movement and word, making others want to bow to you on instinct. And Charles Xavier has that.

They all come to him, moths to a flame. And how could they not, when he is such a vision. Whatever we seek -pain, forgiveness, fulfillment-, he is always providing it, keeping us controlled, adoring him and wanting more. Anyone hurting him or breaking his rules would draw on him all the wrath from the other factions. A perfect balance.

One day I'll convince him to join me. In the mean time...

I take off my coat, but keep the leather gloves I know he likes. I walk to him and fall on my knees in front of his wheelchair, kissing his hand with fervor. I find that I missed him.

"You've been away a long time Nur. I was starting to think you disappeared."

"I would never leave you."

A noise attracts my attention. In a corner of the room, Lehnsherr is on his knees, hands behind his back, blindfolded.

"Don't mind Erik, he has his own mistakes to think about."

I like Lehnsherr. He has many qualities I seek in my men. I wouldn't mind making him one of my generals. Even if he is the only true competition to Charles' side. But he sees himself as undeserving and so he rejects his chances. His one fault, in my opinion... The fool...

Charles' fingers take hold of my hair and pull, forcing me to look at him.

"I thought I said not to pay attention to Erik. Look. At. _Me_."

At that moment Charles is so powerful no one could keep from devouring him with their eyes. Such strength... I want him to be mine.

He caresses my face with his free hand. "I love your lips."

His hand twist in my hair again, pulling me for a kiss.

It is fire, our combined passion dancing together and stroking the flames, making it more and more... He knows to stop at the edge, frustrating me in the perfect way.

He is made to rule and I want him to. At my side. I can give him the world and more, the glory he deserves. 

"Fetch me a drink than carry me to bed. I want you to worship me tonight."

I smile. I will. Tonight... Tomorrow... Forever...


	26. Slow Burn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For what is more slow burn, than a good regency AU, a la Pride and Prejudice.

[](https://ibb.co/xmHffRg)


End file.
